The Principles of Design
by shipsxahoy
Summary: Emma Swan is a painting major with no business being in a Graphic Design class. Good thing her TA, Killian Jones is here to help her out.
1. Contrast

Prompt: _I'm a traditional painter who has to take a basic Photoshop class, you're a graphic design major sitting next to me and getting sucked into helping me out because Im so shitty at this_

 _Fair warning:_ I'm not normally a writer, and I haven't written fic in ...years. But, I stumbled upon this prompt and I just had to write it, y'know? I've also been musing a Design Agency AU, and decided this was a perfect prompt to flex my writing muscles with first before committing to something larger. I intended this to be a one-shot but it grew and now will be in four parts.  
Thank you to Kaitlyn (spartanguard) for the quick beta & the words of encouragement.

* * *

Chapter 1: Contrast  
 _Contrast: Making elements different increases understanding._

It was a truth universally acknowledged that Emma Swan did not like computers, and computers did not like her. Okay, that may be a bit dramatic, but tell that to the damn spinning beachball of death that mocks her pain. Emma tapped her fingers against the top of her desk impatiently as she slumped back in her swivel chair. Her blonde, wavy hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun, and her glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she waited for Photoshop to finish loading.

 _This is why I prefer paint and canvas,_ Emma fumed, glaring at the screen as if she could simply will it to operate faster with her mind.

"Stare any harder at that screen, love, and you might burn a hole through it," came a familiar voice, interrupting her silent cursing. Emma sat up straight and turned to meet a pair of perfect blue eyes and knowing smirk.

It was mid-day on a Wednesday in the computer lab at Storybrooke University. The lab was practically empty, save for the petite brunette lab assistant, Belle, which is why Emma tended to visit only at this time. It was also the only time she's able to visit the lab, between all of her other classes and working at Granny's.

Emma all but rolled her eyes, as Killian Jones plunked down in the seat across from her. He was a graphic design major, two years ahead of her, with a British accent and permanent scruff, that one would describe being attractive…or devilishly handsome, as he liked to point out. Emma pointedly ignored him as he unwrapped the earbuds hanging from around his neck, and took out a USB drive and sketchbook out of his bag.

Instead, she had begun to aggressively click her mouse, in the hopes that somehow that would make her Mac load faster.

"Y'know, most men would take your silence as off-putting." Killian amused by her impatience, as he started up his computer, and plugged in his USB. "But I do love a challenge," he smirked looking up from his monitor.

* * *

"This _thing_ is taking forever to load," Emma complained, crossing her arms as she leaned back, to look up at him.

He wore a blue flannel shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, paired with jeans just tight enough that had Emma calling him a "hipster" when they first encountered.

 _"Not a hipster, love; it's called having a style."  
"It's called trying too hard. And don't call me 'love.'"_

She assumed he was a fellow student, but in actuality he was her teacher's assistant in her GD 101 Class: Introduction to Visual Design, taught by Professor Gold, apparently one of the hardest graphic design professors at Storybrooke U. _Emma Swan was a freakin' painting major._ She was stuck in the class as part of a stupid prerequisite, however; all of the other basic studio ( _read: easier_ ) design classes were closed by the time she was able to register. This left only the 2-D Visual Design classes left, and because of the rules of the program, she wasn't allowed to take classes in her own medium. So, Emma figured she's a modern woman living in a digital age, she could figure out a few keystrokes and mouse clicks, and registered for the introductory graphic design class.

On the first day of class, Gold singled her out, knowing she was just in the class for the credit. Apparently, it was his MO to be overly harsh and critical in order to weed the weakest links out of the Graphic Design program, which left a select few that he is able to mold and groom to his liking. However, Emma Swan never backed down from a challenge. She had chose this class, despite her technological overconfidence, and she was going to get her credit, even if she had to fight tooth and nail with her computer and through Gold's sneering.

"Is that the project for Gold?" Killian asked, glancing over her screen. Emma nodded.

"The one that's due tomorrow." His lip twitched into something like a smile.

"Of course it is, what else would it be?" Emma snapped, then softened and shook her head, looking back at her screen. "I don't know what I did, Jones. It's been like this for the past five minutes."

Her dark-haired TA gave a deep chuckle, one that caused a tell-tale shiver running down Emma's spine that she ignored. He leaned over her to reach her mouse and keys, the scent of his cologne intoxicating to her, smelling vaguely of rum and leather—this too she also ignored. Emma switched her scowl from the screen to him, as she scooted away to give him room.

"Well your first problem here, Swan, is that your file size is like 80 megabytes. How the bloody hell did you even get it to be that large? You're only using three layers. What are you even trying to attempt here?" Killian looked perplexed, a look that rarely crossed his handsome features.

"I just needed to cut the background away from this image…" Emma trailed off, she really didn't know what she was doing. She was honestly just messing around, trying to come up with something to hopefully show in class tomorrow.

Professor Gold was teaching them the Principles of Design, which Emma thought she knew already, being an art major who has gone through the basic classes already. But of course, this was graphic design, and as pretentious as it can be, so it had it's own set of rules. Mixed with the "Synectic Trigger Mechanisms" ( _God, how ridiculous does that sound?_ ), she needed to learn a new set of terms and how to apply the principles she already knew, and in unfamiliar territory. To say the least, it's been a struggle, receiving sub-par scores and disapproving looks from Gold during crit days.

The final project of the semester seemed like an easy one when he first presented it to the class.

 _"You are to take an object that's meaningful to you and present it conceptually by applying one of the synectic triggers we've discussed this semester."_

Emma chewed her lip, stumped. Having grown up in the foster system, she had very few objects that she could call her own: her Bug, and a box full of childhood memories she'd rather forget, and her art. But it was her last project, and then she'd be free and never had to touch a mouse and keyboard ever again.

It made no sense to her. Whenever she used Photoshop, it felt like she's painting a Picasso, when she wanted to paint a Vermeer. It was too precise but abstract at the same time. Nothing turned out the way she envisioned it. It wasn't just simply feeling the brush work under hands, letting herself become one with it, as if it's an extension of her arm. The harsh click of her mouse, along with having to maneuver how her hand works over her keyboard and recall the hot keys that her Introduction to Photoshop book offered, just wasn't natural.

Killian clicked around a few times on the screen, checking the layers pallette. "Swan, where's the original artwork of this layer?"

Emma blinked out of her reverie, _was he not listening?_ "Um.. I erased it."

"With what tool?" Killian rested his elbow on the desk, and turned to look at her.

"The eraser, of course." Emma said, smugly, as if it was obvious.

Killian groaned, resting his forehead in his palm. "Gods, Swan... this isn't MS Paint."

"Yeah because if it was, I would be amazing at it." Emma said, exasperated. Killian shook his head in dismay, but he was grinning.

"These tools don't even make sense! What's the point of an eraser tool anyway if I'm not supposed to use it to y'know… erase things? What's so funny?!" Emma gestured towards the computer, in a wiping sort of motion.

Killian was laughing silently now, "It's called non-destructive editing, Swan. It's the second cardinal rule of Photoshop."

"Oh yeah.. And what's the first?"

"Always save your work." And as if by some twisted sort of fate, at that exact moment—her Photoshop decided to quit.

"You _did_ save, didn't you?"

Emma looked peevishly at Killian and shook her head.

He sighed, while running his hand through his already disheveled hair. "I have work to do in here anyway, if you have any questions…" He swiftly rolled back to his computer, and patted his lap, "Just roll on over." He offered her a wink, but Emma didn't respond. Instead, she rolled her eyes and adverted her gaze back to her computer. Resigned, she restarted the program back up again.

Silence fell over the computer lab, every so often, you would hear a few keyboard taps and mouse clicks over the humming of computers. Emma's knee bounced with excess energy, musing that maybe she should cut back on the caffeine. She glanced over at Killian. Appreciating his looks while he was focused on the screen in front of him. He had put on a pair of glasses, that were seemingly unnecessary if the quickening of her pulse was any indication, and not helping his whole "not-a-hipster" stance.

He caught her staring at him and Emma recovered, asking, "So… are you going to explain this… non-constructive editing?"

"Non- _destructive_ , and sure." He indicated for her to move closer to his computer. She rolled over to him, gaining a disapproving look from Belle, before settling next to his left to see what he was working on. It looked…well it looked like a mess. There were cyan and magenta lines everywhere, and it didn't look exactly like Photoshop.

"What are you working in?"

"This, love, is Adobe InDesign, the bane of all graphic designers' existence…well, at least until they realize how amazingly useful it is." He chuckled, turning off the guides allowing her to see the layout he was working on.

It seemed to be a book of some sort, displaying various different types of projects ranging from logos and business systems to a publication layout. It was clean, but it was bright and colorful. The elements were all neatly aligned, and while it seemed a bit corporate, there was something distinctively _Killian Jones_ about it.

"There's _another_ program." Emma groaned. Photoshop was hard enough; what the hell was this? It looked similar to Photoshop, but the toolbars were different and there seemed to be a whole lot more palettes opened on the side.

"Yes, Swan. In fact, Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign are what I like to call the Holy Trinity of Graphic Design. Graphic design's mirepoix, if you will." Emma rolled her eyes at his extensive vocabulary; of course a graphic designer would have their ways with words.

"Photoshop and Illustrator are basically two programs that you use to create, and InDesign is for layout." He summarized the best he could. "You can do everything in one program, but that's just making things harder on yourself, you see."

"I see…" She really didn't see, but at the same time, she was more interested in what Killian was working on.

"And so this is…?" She leaned over and stole his mouse, to quickly scroll over his workspace,

"My portfolio… basically. The applications for the Fine Art program is due at the end of the month, and this is just a part of it." Killian replied nervously. "I'm just laying out my work that I've done over the last three years."

Emma stopped scrolling on a particular page, it seemed like a painting—but not. It was all digital. It was a simple scene of a pirate ship in a bay at sunset, but it was so real, Emma wanted to feel it. "You did this with a computer?" Emma asked, disbelieving.

"Um, yeah…with Photoshop, actually" Killian chuckled.

"Wow, Killian…this is actually pretty good. I'm…impressed." Emma gave a small laugh, "That's something I never imagined saying."

The tips of his ears and cheeks reddened, as he saved and minimized the document. "Thanks; it's been a long time coming."

"I'm not even sure how you do it…It's just so much easier with paint and brushes… so much more...freeing, y'know?" she muttered, as he opened up a new document on his screen.

"You're an artist, love… and Photoshop is just another tool an artist can use. Once you learn the basics, it's almost second nature. Besides, none of it counts anyway—it's your idea that matters when it comes to designing. Once you have your concept nailed down, well...that's when the real fun begins," he said with a devilish smile.

It was in this moment that Emma realized how close she was to him, leaned over his lap to reach his mouse. She cleared her throat, and straightened back up in her seat.

"So, did Gold teach you that?" She asked while she crossed her arms and rolled back a bit to give herself some distance. If Killian noticed, he didn't comment.

"Not exactly, Swan. I'm actually surprisingly good at research." He smirked, "It's actually my favorite part of designing. Learning about the world and how people interact with it. It's always good to design with a purpose."

He opened a new photoshop document and explained the basic steps of using mask and adjustment layers. As he described the process, he spoke with a passion, one that was similar to how Emma felt when she spoke about painting. That passion made him different than the other pretentious artists that Emma had encountered before.

Though they both came from two different worlds—his was digital, and hers was traditional—she felt a connection with Killian that she hadn't felt with anyone before. He was sort of a kindred spirit in a way. However, this connection also made him dangerous.

Emma never had the best track record when it came to her love life. First there was Neal Cassidy, her first love and her last real relationship. Quickly after graduating high school, she decided to run off to see the world, and live as starving artist. She met Neal while attempting to lift some paint out of a small art supply store. He helped her obtain her materials by pretending to be her husband, while she faked being pregnant with the help of cleverly hidden canvas and went into "labor."

Neal was also an artist; a photographer traveling across the United States, capturing scenes of urban and rural life. He was charming and idealistic, with bigger dreams than her own. It seemed as though Neal wanted the world, while Emma just wanted a place to belong. During that time, they mainly lived out of her old, yellow Volkswagen Bug, trunk full of film, canvases, and painting supplies. It was a romantic dream of a life, but it ended quickly. One morning, Emma woke up to find him gone, with no note or trace of where he went.

Now that she was alone, she picked up work at Granny's Diner to pay for her materials and gas. Granny Lucas, the proprietor of the diner, would make sure she was fed and had a bed to sleep on—but Emma prefered the open road. She would travel up and down the Eastern seaboard, one eye on the landscape and another looking for the love that scorned her. However, the colors she had painted that were once so bright—had turned dull and lifeless.

Tired of seeing Emma waste her potential, Granny encouraged Emma to enroll at Storybrooke University, where her granddaughter, Ruby, attended. The creative environment breathed new life into Emma's art. She thought she was able to make it on her own, with nothing but the pavement and her paintbrushes. But she never realized how much creativity is fostered from being with other creative people.

It wasn't as though Emma was an outsider, she had a few friends that she had gathered from her time at Storybrooke U. She met Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan through Ruby. They took her under their well-meaning wings, becoming a sort of surrogate siblings. Mary Margaret majored in recreation administration, while David was studying pre-veterinary science. Her best friend and current roommate, Elsa Arendell, was an architecture major, whom Emma happened to have sculpture with, and they suffered through it together.

It was also here that she briefly dated and talked to a few men, but they left her disappointed. There was Graham, who was nice but their relationship only lasted a semester before he went back home to Ireland. Next came Walsh, a graphic design major, in the same year as Killian. He was really using her as a rebound to get back at his girlfriend, Zelena, a fiery redhead in the same major.

It was then Emma decided that she would focus on her painting, rather than trying to mend a broken heart. Perhaps her last relationship with Walsh was the reason why Emma resented the graphic design department so much, and Professor Gold certainly wasn't helping the matter.

The graphic design majors at her university seemed to be at each other's throats, as they tried to out do each other at every chance in order to get into the Fine Art program. The Bachelors of Fine Art program was a prestigious two year program, and you're almost guaranteed a job upon graduation. And with being in any art major, jobs didn't just fall from the sky. It almost seemed like selling out to Emma. While she didn't believe in "art for art's sake," she still believed in integrity.

However, Killian was different. Or rather, he seemed indifferent—like he wasn't there to compete with the others because he knew his worth. He didn't seem to be trying to vy for the favors of Gold, despite being his TA—it was almost as if he hated the position. She knew Walsh was jealous of him for that very reason. While he came off arrogant, it also seemed as though he was tired, as if he had lived years beyond what his age actually was.

Emma mused about this as she nodded and took notes as Killian showed her how to use the pen tool to clip out images. His infuriating cologne wafted in and out of her consciousness, as if to remind her to keep her distance. _Yes, Killian Jones was bad news and it was best to stay away._

* * *

Thanks for reading. Faves/Reviews are appreciated! You can find me on tumblr: shipsxahoy


	2. Repetition

Again, thanks to Kaitlyn (SpartanGuard) for the beta. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Repetition**

 _ **Repetition:**_ _Repeat visual elements to create strong unity._

When Belle began to very noisily pack up her stuff, Killian and Emma took that as a hint that the computer lab was closing for the day. Emma groaned in frustration. She was able to figure out some of the tools in the program with Killian's encouragement, but she was nowhere near where she wanted to be, and what she's created still looked like crap. She just couldn't connect with the assignment, and that was the worst part. Emma liked to think of herself as a problem solver; a do-er. She imagined taking this project and kicking its (and, by proxy, Gold's) ass. However, she couldn't think of a single object to focus on, and with not having much to call her own, it was as if Gold was setting her up to fail.

Emma packed her bag in resignation, trying to come with a solution. _I suppose I could always come back early in the morning, and wait for Belle to open the lab up,_ she mused _._ Despite the fact that she could spend $200 on painting supplies without blinking, Emma balked at the prices that Adobe ran with these days. $20 a month for Photoshop could go to something more productive, like Netflix and onion rings. Besides, Emma would need a laptop that wasn't on it's last leg in order for the program to be any good to her. She stretched and absentmindedly reached for the top of her head and released her pale waves that were held up in a bun. As she shook her hair loose, she felt a pair of eyes staring at her. Her eyes met his, and she caught a fleeting look in his electric stare before he diverted his attention back to his screen. Killian quickly recovered and scratched his ear nervously before asking,"So, Swan. How about a drink?"

Killian stretched as he stood up. Emma tried prying her eyes away from the stretch of skin that was revealed as he did so, subconsciously licking her lips. She shook her head.

"Oh no, Jones. This is not a thing." She gestured between them with her sketchbook and continued to shove it into her bag. "Thanks for the help and all… but I just don't do relationships."

Killian chuckled and shook his head. "Calm down, Swan; it's just coffee. I'm not asking for dinner… unless..." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh no, no. Fine, only because you helped me out. But you're buying." Emma smirked, as she slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked out, Killian rushing to keep up.

* * *

"So, Emma…why painting?" They were seated in the food-friendly area outside of the coffee shop that was located inside the campus library. It had a cozy atmosphere, with an ambient buzz of conversation and soft indie rock. Emma had let her hair down to stave off the chill; she moved her blonde waves to the side before picking up her drink.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Emma teased, her lips pressed against the lip of her hot chocolate with cinnamon.

"Perhaps I would." The statement was loaded with promises of more. Of walls that she worked so hard to build up crumbling to the ground.

"I know what this is… you trying to," Emma shook her head with a sigh, "...bond with me."

Killian smiled. "Try something new, darling. It's called trust." He opened the lid to his own coffee, before taking a flask out from his pocket and pouring a shot of the contents within.

She took a sip of her drink and contemplated him. "I'll answer your question if you answer one of mine."

"Ah, a wager. Okay lass, you're on."

"Who's Milah?" Emma indicated to his tattoo, she spotted peeking out from under his sleeve when he poured his liquor. "From your tattoo?"

Killian's arrogant smile faded, and his expression turned dark. "Someone from long ago."

"Where is she?" Emma pressed on, but Killian shook his head with a sad smile. "Ah, a question for a question, love."

Emma sighed, closing her eyes briefly before opening again. "I grew up in the system."

"Swan, it's okay; you don't have to—"

"No, it's okay. An art major with a rough childhood; what else is new?" Emma shook her head. "I guess painting was one of the more consistent things in my life. I was fostered at a home; the foster mother was a stay-at-home artist." Emma sipped her drink, gathering her thoughts, before continuing. "Anyway, I would skip school sometimes, but she wouldn't mind. Instead, she let me use some of her paints, extra canvas, and old brushes. 'Might as well be productive,' she would say."

Killian smiled. "She sounds nice."

"She was nice…but she was certifiably insane, though, so that didn't last long," Emma scoffed. "She tried to push me out into traffic once, saying that I had magical powers or something." Emma laughed.

"Ah, well…all good things come to an end, I suppose." Killian, rubbing at his wrist subconsciously.

Emma shrugged. "I guess. It's funny, when I'm painting…it does feel sort of magical. As though I just see it in my head and I feel what I want to paint, and it just…I don't know… happens?" Emma blushed, realizing she got carried away. "Well… that's my sad story in a nutshell. I'm sure that warrants more than enough for you to answer my other question."

Her dark-haired companion nodded. "Milah was my first love…" he almost said in a whisper. "I had just transferred here, after having lost my brother while he was overseas in the Navy. Served some time myself, but couldn't go on with it …y'know after..." He shrugged, non-committedly. "She was my advisor." Emma raised an arched eyebrow. Killian scratched the back of his ear in a nervous tick, "I know. It was wrong. On top of that, she was married to Gold." Both eyebrows raised. "I didn't know at the time!" Killian interjected, holding his hand up defensively. "We fell in love, but… we got caught. Instead of having me expelled, Milah decided to end the relationship and transfer to work at a different university out of state. I ended up being Gold's TA indefinitely because that was part of the deal I struck with him," he muttered bitterly.

Emma sat back in her seat. "Well, no wonder you seem to hate being a TA so much."

"It's not like I attempted to hide my contempt, Swan." Killian chuckled darkly, as he took a sip from his cup.

Emma sighed, picking her cup back up, taking a sip and letting the warm chocolate slide down her throat with a sweet burn. _Well, this explains why he seems to loathe being a TA, but why stick through with the program? Why even try?_ Emma mulled over, letting her thoughts distract her.

Quickly finishing the rest of his drink, Killian wrapped his earbuds back around his neck and bent over to pick up his bag. "Well, Swan, what's next?"

"Hmm?" Emma looked at him, startled, "What do you mean 'what's next?'"

"I know for a fact you're not even close to being finished with your project. Besides, who is going to rescue you when Photoshop decides to break on you again? It wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to leave you in the lurch." He stood up tall, a dark gray scarf in his hand. Emma glanced around the study area, which was nearly empty, and noted that the sky outside was growing dark.

Emma scoffed, standing up, slinging her bag over one shoulder. "Since when are you a gentleman?"

Killian sauntered up to stand next to Emma, she tilted her chin up to meet his blazing gaze. "I'll have you know, Swan, I am _always_ a gentleman." He gave her a wink, and proceeded to wrap his scarf around her neck.

"Hey!" Emma exclaimed, not expecting the sudden covering of her blonde waves.

"Ah, ah, Swan. It's cold outside. Like I said...gentleman." He snickered. "Besides...it looks better on you."

Emma kept glaring daggers at him, but her hand stilled from removing his scarf from her neck. "I suppose I'll have to finish my project up tomorrow morning when the lab opens up again."

"The project, that's due tomorrow." Killian reminded her, unnecessarily.

"Yes, what other damn project do I have that requires a computer?" Emma grip on the strap of her bag tightened in annoyance.

"Well, you're just in luck Swan, I have a perfectly working Mac at home that you can have access to," Killian offered.

"Then why were you in the computer lab earlier?" Emma asked, confused.

"Sometimes it's more convenient to be there; besides, the company today was more favorable." He quirked his eyebrow with a flirtatious grin, before checking the time on his phone, "We better hurry, lass."

"Hurry? What do you mean?" Emma looked at him inquisitively, hand tightening around the strap of her bag. "I thought you said you had a computer I could use."

"Yes, but the art store is about to close. And I wager that you hadn't thought to pick up any mat board." As his blue eyes locked with hers, Emma felt a bit unnerved. Killian Jones seemed to know her more than she knew herself. She shrugged. "I was going to do it all tomorrow."

"Leaving things to last minute would be very bad form, Swan." He grinned, as he brushed with an errant strand of hair off the scarf around her neck with his finger. Emma turned quickly for the exit, but not before Killian noticed the light blush forming on her cheeks.

* * *

They arrived at the Neverland Art Supply store about 20 minutes to closing. It was an unassuming shop from the outside, but once she was inside, it was like time stopped passing. It was a jungle inside, and was incredibly hard for Emma to concentrate on what she was looking for from being distracted by a tempting mess of brushes and paint. The counters were normally ran by bored-looking art students who looked like they could benefit from a shower and some sleep. Instead of providing any actual help, they would rather stay up waxing poetic about their newest masterpieces made from old furniture and whatever they may had plucked from the dumpster that day. The store was owned by a man named Peter Pan, who was elusive and as equally unhelpful as his employees.

Emma prefered to avoid Neverland Art Supply store, but Killian was right: procrastination would be, as he said, "bad form." Besides, Emma Swan was a woman on a mission. The quicker she was out of this dark jungle, the quicker she could get to finishing her project. As she followed her dark-haired guide inside, she noticed that he seemed to be pretty familiar with navigating the crowded and cramped aisles. They made a quick beeline to the back, where a petite blonde sat behind a large counter. Large racks of matboard towered behind her as she sat cross-legged on a stool, casually reading a magazine.

Killian knocked on the counter to grab the blonde's attention. "G'day Tink," he grinned

"Killian! I wasn't expecting you to work today...and who is this you've brought around? You know the rules, Jones." The girl named Tink scolded, but her warm smile meant otherwise. She extended her hand "The name's Tink."

Emma shook her hand and returned the smile, introducing herself. Tink had elvish features; her blonde hair was coiled in a bun on the top of her head, and her gray eyes seemed to scan Emma as if she was reading her, which made the taller blonde feel slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm not working today, Tink. Just picking up some mat board for the lovely Ms. Swan here." Tink raised her eyebrows, unaffected by his charm but noticeably curious about Emma's presence.

"I see," Tink smiled, "And does 'the lovely Ms. Swan' have a preference?" She waved her arm behind her, towards the vertical shelves that held the boards. They came in all sorts of colors—some in two colors—at various sizes and thicknesses.

Emma's neck began to feel warm and uncomfortably familiar at Killian's introduction of her, but she ignored it. "It's for Gold's final project; I think the standard black-on-black would be fine."

"Oh, you must be in Gold's beginning class. I haven't seen you around." Tink leaned against the counter with her elbows. "I've taken the class as well, though with Professor Blue teaching it. She wasn't too much fun, but I can't imagine the horrors that Gold must've put you through this semester. I hear enough about him as it is from this one over here." Tink jerked her head toward Killian, and he merely just rolled his eyes.

"You're a graphic design major, too?" Emma asked, surprised. She didn't know many graphic design majors as...candid as Tink seemed to be. Tink gave a short, mirthless laugh, "No; I switched to sculpture after my class with Blue. I'm better with my hands anyway; I like to tinker." She wiggled her fingers at Emma with a giggle.

"Look Tink, we're kind of on a schedule here, so can you just…" Killian cutted into the conversation, bringing both girls back on track.

"Well, I'm guessing you'll need a 17x21" board if it's for GD101." Tink sighed, putting down her magazine and hopping off her stool. She was quick on her feet as she maneuvered around to grab a board from off the rack and headed towards a backroom to trim it down.

"Thanks Tink!" Killian called after her, as she waved her hand dismissively. He was leaning casually against the counter, and again Emma found herself in the same position of almost staring too long. She rested her forearms against the top of the counter, watching Tink flit about trimming the large black matboard down to a more manageable size.

"So…you work here?" she asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Aye," Killian nodded, "A few hours a week, when I'm not slaving away for Gold. Not like Pan is any better, but at least I get whatever matboard is left from Tink's mistakes."

"I heard that!" came a voice from the backroom. Emma shrugged. "I don't know what I expected, you don't seem to be the type to…"

"To what, Swan? Know the difference between oil and acrylic paint?" He smiled, as he shook his head. "Just because I work on a computer most of the time doesn't mean I don't use traditional methods as well."

Emma didn't know how to respond, but at the same time her curiosity piqued. She thought back to Killian's portfolio, and the digital rendering of a seascape that looked so much like a real painting.

"Well, that's convenient. You guys could use some help re-shelving though. I come in for one thing, and leave an hour later with ten other things because I get so distracted." Emma glanced over to one shelf in particular that looked to be stocked dangerously high with clay.

"Mm...I don't know, lass. Seems our shelving system works just fine." He shrugged, waggling his eyebrows. Emma playfully smacked him in the shoulder before smiling to herself.

"Here you go, and don't worry, I measured twice." Tink glided back in with Emma's boards, her eyes bright as she glanced between the two of them. She pressed the boards into Emma's hands. "Don't worry, I'll put it on Killian's tab," she said with a wink. Her blonde bun shook with silent laughter as she headed back to clean up the scraps of board she had left behind. Emma smirked at Killian's affronted look, as they turned to walk out of the labyrinth of art supplies. As she tried avoiding his sapphire stare, Emma's caught her eyes on a set of kolinsky sable brushes that probably cost more than her rent. Her jade eyes lingered a second or two on the soft, auburn bristles before continuing out the door.

A silent chill seeped throughout the parking lot as the winter sun started to fade into a soft twilight. They crossed the lot in comfortable silence, closer companions than when they first ventured into Neverland. Emma braced herself against the cold, subconsciously wrapping Killian's gray scarf tighter around her neck. The smell of salty sea air and sandalwood hit her nose, and she inhaled a bit more deeply than necessary. Her thoughts drifted back to their previous conversation in the library and their time spent in the computer lab. She hadn't realized until this very moment that she had only spent a few (mostly) enjoyable hours with someone who was a practical stranger. And, within these last few hours, she has opened up and felt more comfortable with him than with anyone else in her life. Normally, this is where the still small voice inside of her mind would've been screaming, " _Run!"_ But with Killian Jones, they were whispering, " _Stay."_

This revelation terrified the girl with mile-high walls and red leather armor. Emma Swan was used to running, in fact she may even be an expert in pushing people away. She had given people chances before, but she had been burned one too many times. It was just easier to be the one to leave first; how her heart was broken was on her own terms and not in careless hands.

It wasn't as though she wasn't attracted to him—not that she would dare admit this out loud. The man didn't need another ego boost, but she wasn't just attracted to him just for his angled jaw and constantly windswept raven locks. She has talked and dated to plenty of other guys, but after Neal, it was just one-night stands just to scratch an itch. There was something familiar with Killian. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes, the same one she had seen in her reflection in the mirror. It was a gaze that has seen grief and loss, but at the same time there was passion and blazing hope. Because despite the world seeming to constantly be out to get her, Emma Swan does not give up. And she had a feeling, neither does Killian Jones.

Emma reached her yellow bug first, her ever-so-helpful teacher's assistant trailing behind a few paces, carrying her boards. Her stomach gave a tell-tale rumble. "Looks like I'm getting dinner with you after all, Jones." She called out, unlocking and getting into car. Killian moved so quickly to the passenger side of her car, she could've sworn he jumped and clicked his heels. Emma couldn't help but smile as her trustworthy bug puttered to life.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to follow/fave/review!


	3. Alignment

A/N: Ah, CS AU Week! The best time of the year, in my opinion. I'm sorry it took so long to update, but there's just one more chapter after this! Thank you to Kaitlyn (SpartanGuard) for the beta and Katie (mermaidswans on tumblr) for the words of encouragement.

Chapter 3: Alignment

Alignment: _Nothing should be placed arbitrarily. Placement illustrates relationships between elements._

Emma and Killian picked up some grilled cheese sandwiches and onion rings from Granny's To-Go before heading off to Killian's apartment. Granny handed Emma the brown bag of food with a raised eyebrow that Emma seemed to be receiving too often recently.

Killian's studio apartment was not something Emma was expecting. It was neat, and open-planned. There weren't many photos or personal effects, but there were elements that made the space uniquely Killian's. There were a few meticulously arranged posters on the exposed brick walls, along with some mounted past projects, presumably products of the inhabitant of the apartment. It was something akin to her own apartment, but without the drop cloths and the errant canvases and paintbrushes littering on the floor. The open space was divided between an office of sorts—an L-shaped work table in the middle with his aforementioned Mac—and a living area with a couch that had seen better days. Tucked in towards the back, blocked off by a tall, cubed bookshelf, was a low-profile bed that served as his bedroom. A nice-sized kitchen and bathroom rounded out the space. Emma took in her surroundings, a bit amused; while it may not be a typical bachelor's pad, it was warm—cozy even.

"That's the Mac right there; it should work just fine." Killian gestured towards the desktop while dropping his bag near the couch, and took off his jacket before offering to take the food from Emma, as well as her red leather jacket to hang up. Killian wandered into the kitchen to deposit the bag of food on his breakfast bar and started to dig in and separated out it's contents.

Emma followed Killian and took the styrofoam box that held her usual order of grilled cheese and onion rings and opened it to pop a ring in her mouth. She closed her eyes and groaned a bit, savoring the rich flavor; she didn't realize how hungry she was. She opened her eyes to catch Killian, with his mouth slightly open, watching her.

He shook his head, his dark fringe falling in front of his eyes. "Honestly, Swan, your eating habits are appalling. You have to let me cook you dinner sometime."

"You can cook, too?" Emma chewed on her sandwich thoughtfully, because of course he can.

Killian smirked, before picking up a fry. "Aye, I'm talented in many ways, lass." He winked before popping the fry into his mouth. Now it was Emma's turn to stare, as heat rose to her cheeks. She masked her desire as annoyance, suppressing any urges to wipe off the crumbs from his scruff— _with her mouth. Wait, where the hell did that thought come from?_

She shook her head—and any errant thoughts out of her mind—and pretended to be really interested in her meal, ignoring the lingering electric gaze that seemed to shock her anytime she dared look.

The duo completed their meal in comfortable silence, and as Killian cleaned up after themselves, Emma ventured over to his bookshelf and took in more of the studio and gathered insight into the enigma that was Killian Jones. What the apartment lacked in many photos—besides a few of him and another, taller version of himself; presumably his brother—was made up in little trinkets and treasures. A spyglass and a sextant laid on one shelf, while a ship in a bottle was displayed proudly on another. She spied a guitar resting in it's stand, and wondered what his playing sounded like.

Her eyes caught on a few titles of the books that were housed in the shelf; most were design and typography books. But a favorite and familiar series of spines captured her attention in particular.

"I didn't peg you down as a Harry Potter fan, Jones," Emma teased with a smirk, tapping her finger on the spines. Killian looked up from the breakfast bar he was wiping down, with a surprised smile. He reached up to scratch behind his ear, gesturing wildly to nothing in particular. "Ah, well...it's almost obligatory, Swan. Me being British and all." He seemed flustered for a second, having been caught with such juvenile literature. Emma smiled and said, "Well, you have good taste, home country loyalty or not." Killian finished up in the kitchen and joined her. "Well, it's always comforting to believe in it, y'know?"

"Believe in what?" Emma asked, confused.

"Magic, Swan. Don't you believe in magic?" For a moment his expression was solemn before he waggled his eyebrows to nullify the serious tone of his voice.

Emma gave him an exasperated look, grabbed her bag, and started taking out her sketchbook while Killian busied himself by starting up his Mac.

"There, Swan. This should all be ready to go. I'll just be over here on the couch if you need me,"

Emma settled in the desk chair, and muttered a quick thanks, before checking her phone. It was nearly 7, and she had a feeling it was going to be a long night. She sent a quick text to Elsa, letting her know not to wait up for her.

* * *

There's always a quiet still that comes with working at night. Time seems to drift off, in a pace where it neither feels fast nor slow. Emma was well acquainted with pulling an all-nighter, but the concept was foreign when factoring another presence in the room. The blonde felt hyper-aware of her surroundings, feeling rather than hearing every click of the keyboard and rustle of paper.

She sat up in her chair with a sigh, pulling her long blonde curls up into a messy bun.

"You alright there, Swan?" Killian asked, looking up over his own screen in his lap, glasses hanging low on his nose. It was almost endearing, seeing him in this domestic kind of setting, comfortable in his own home. A sight that Emma wouldn't mind seeing again, as she pushed this fleeting thought from her mind.

"I just… I don't know what's wrong with this. There's just something, off? Is it me? Am I going crazy?" Emma rubbed at her temple while staring at the artwork on the screen. It was a collage of sorts, the main focus was of an image of her turned away, in her red jacket, facing the Boston skyline.

Killian got up and stood behind her, arms crossed, the expression on his face unreadable. His eye movements flickered, as if he was reading. He squinted his eyes, and took a few more steps back, before calling Emma over, "Come over here, Swan."

Emma raised an eyebrow, but acquiesced. She joined him a couple of feet away from the desk, and mimicked his stance—only because she wasn't sure what he wanted her to do. Killian looked at her and gave a small smile. "Now, what do you see?"

Emma turned to him with a glare. "I see hours of wasted time," she said, bitterly. Killian chuckled, and uncrossed his arms to wrap them around her shoulders to right her back to face the monitor. Ignoring the way his fingers felt as if they were sending electrical pulses down her arms, she stared at the monitor again. "I see… I see nothing."

Emma was perplexed, but within the collage of images she threw together to get the project done, it really was just that—a mess of images. She was starting to see clearly what her problem was—she was a mess. A broken, jumbled mess. A jigsaw puzzle where none of the edges matched up.

Now, Emma Swan was not one to cry in front of anyone, let alone Killian Jones. She could blame it on the late hour or pent-up frustration over this project and class for the last 5 months—hell, of her life for the last 22 years—that she had lent herself this one moment of vulnerability. She felt the slight pain behind her eyes and her throat to swell, as she coughed and shrugged out of Killian's grasp.

Killian frowned, and turned to face her and as he did, his demeanor softened. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Emma knew he wasn't talking about her work on the screen. But this was what she was afraid of, right? Opening herself up to someone, only to be left without notice and a broken heart.

When Emma didn't respond right away, Killian took her silence as her answer and walked back and sat down in the desk chair in front of the Mac.

"It's not that bad, Emma. It just lacks focus." The softness of his voice and the way his tongue rolled over her name caused Emma to sit down on the couch with her head in her hands.

"I just...maybe I need to focus on something else. The jacket was supposed to represent an armor of some sort. I wanted to show that I can face the world on my own." Emma sighed, defeatedly.

Killian stayed silent for a few moments, carefully weighing his thoughts, "Maybe that's it, there's a disconnect here because you're personally not connecting. You're deflecting, rejecting the project through your work, and it shows." He sighs, taking his glasses off to rub the strain of the late hour from his eyes. "Is there anything else you own, Swan?"

Emma contemplated this for a second. "No… not really. I mean, I guess I have the baby blanket my parents—my real parents—wrapped me in. It's the one thing I have left of them, besides my name, which was stitched on it. It's something I've held onto my whole life."

Emma sighed, sinking back further into the couch as she looked up towards the ceiling, hoping gravity would staunch the threat of oncoming flood of tears. "It was almost like proof."

"Proof of what?" Killian encouraged, not wanting to say much to intervene in her thoughts.

"Proof that… somewhere out there, someone loved me once. It gave me hope," Emma smiled ruefully. "I mean, if they went through the hassle of leaving me on the side of the road with a handmade blanket with my name on it, then… they must've…" Emma's voice broke, and she retreated back into her thoughts. Sudden clarity hit her like a bolt of lightning.

Perhaps, that was it. Inspiration comes in strange forms, but when it does you hold on tight and keep going forward.

"Move." That was all she said to Killian, effectively vacating him from his own chair, as she settled in before looking up at him. "I'm going to take up your offer on help, Jones."

Killian raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh?"

"That one image in your portfolio—the one that looks like a painting—how did you do that?" The blonde spoke quickly, tightened the bun on to of her head, and shoved her glasses back up her nose.

A slow smile formed on Killian's face in recognition of her plan. "Well, Swan, let me grab you the tablet." He pulled a black, flat tablet from the drawer under his desk, and set it in front of her. He grabbed the corresponding pen and handed it over. He grabbed a nearby ottoman and sat next to her.

"It's a bit weird at first, getting used to it, but once you have it down, it's almost like the real thing. Now here is the brushes palette, and you're in luck, lass. I have every kind of brush under the sun."

Killian quickly showed her the basics of digital painting, and to Emma it was as if the sky cleared up and she was seeing everything in a new light. Photoshop didn't seem foreign anymore; this was a new inlet that she could navigate and relate to. A new medium that didn't seem inaccessible to a traditional artist like herself.

With Killian's support and encouragement, Emma was able to finish her project in record time—and was satisfied with what she produced. She just hoped that when she presented, Gold would be, too.

"This looks bloody brilliant, lass. There are some people even in my own class that couldn't even do this. I knew there was a little bit of a graphic designer inside you." Killian complemented her work enthusiastically as he watched it print out.

As the ink dried on her newly printed project, Killian looked up at Emma with a shit-eating grin.

"C'mon, Swan. Let's get to mounting." Killian winked, as he licked his lips suggestively.

Emma eyes widened-and can totally blame the late hour for her actions-and a small smile formed on her lips, instead of admonishing him.

"I meant the project, Swan. Get your mind out the gutter." He winked and got up to grab the matboard they bought earlier that evening and his supplies. Emma merely smiled fondly at his teasing and followed him.

* * *

Another benefit Emma did not foresee in having her teacher's aide help her with her project is seeing him work with his hands. While designers did a lot of their work on the screen, mounting was also a crucial part of the presentation process. She remembered a few incidences on critique day that ended in tears and even flames. Once, the unfortunate student's project, _poor Archie,_ had his artwork a mere 1/8th of an inch off center. Gold pulled out a ruler and proceeded to give a verbal lashing that probably could've been heard well across the courtyard of the art building. Next, well-meaning but naive Aurora had cut her matboard with the wrong dimensions, but still mounted her artwork to it. Gold proceeded to take out a lighter and light it on fire, citing that if she was careless enough not to restart and get a new matboard, then he didn't care to grade it.

To say that Emma was nervous about mounting projects was an understatement. Her palms got sweaty, and she constantly measured and re-measured, and measured once more just in case.

Killian's hands, though, were steady and moisture-free. He wore rings, something Emma didn't notice before. The L-shaped work table doubled as a mounting space, with a grid hand-drawn out on top of it. He helped her measure, cut, and spray-mount her artwork down. He taught her a few tricks, too. "I use these clamps here, Swan. See, no pesky moving matboard," or "Two-inch fabric ruler; you'll always get a good border."

Once the final piece of tape was attached to the vellum that covered the top of her mounted project, Emma let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I say we make quite the team, Swan," Killian mused. They stood side-by-side at the work table, admiring the project that seemed _so giant_ only a few hours ago.

Emma looked up from her own creation and placed it down on Killian's worktable, perplexed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you're a bit of an open book." Killian examined Emma with his lightning blue eyes, and she felt exposed as she adverted her gaze.

"I don't know what Walsh told you but…" Emma began but Killian interrupted her,

"Walsh? That bugger? No, Swan. You have this...look in your eye. As if you've been hurt before."

Emma crossed her arms. "You don't even know me, Jones."

It unnerved Emma; how dare he waltz into her life? How dare he look at her as if she was the brightest star in the sky and speak to her as if she was totally sane? There was never a point where she saw pity in his gaze, or heard criticism in his voice. She certainly did not asked to participate in a late-night therapy session, she got that enough from her roommate's psych major sister (at least, she was for this semester).

"Maybe I was in love once…and as usual, he wasn't who he said he was and I got my heart broken." She stared at him defiantly, challenging him to call her stupid or change the subject.

 _What time is it? It must be really late._ The lack of sleep and Killian's stupid soothing voice must be impacting her ability to think straight and keep her guard up. But if Emma was really honest with herself, perhaps she was tired of holding up those heavy walls that did nothing but remind her of her painful past. Perhaps it was because Killian was the first person to actually try to knock these walls down. There were so many factors that Emma didn't know, but she wasn't in a hurry to find out.

Killian took a step towards her, closing a gap that Emma had subconsciously made between them, and took her hand in his. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad to hear that."

Emma looked up at him incredulously, surprised by his unexpected answer. "You're glad that I got my heart broken?"

He measured her for a second, before continuing thoughtfully, "If it can be broken...It means it still works."

He stared at her intensely, as jade collided with sapphire. They held each other's gaze for a few heartbeats—one, two, three—before Emma broke eye contact and shook her hand loose from his.

"It's...uh..getting late," she muttered, checking her phone. _Shit, it was nearly 3 in the morning._

"Uh, yeah it is." Killian scratched his earlobe before running his hands through his hair.

"You can sleep here if you want, Swan. Have my bed, I sleep more often than not on my couch after a long night at my desk. Besides, it would be ungentlemanly of me to let you go this late into the night."

Emma hesitated, still reeling from the revelations that happened throughout the night. She was tired, and the thought of snuggling into Killian's sheets did sound appealing—no matter the circumstance. She nodded, "I...uh…" she began, not sure what to say before settling on, "Thank you, Killian." She gave a weak smile, before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

* * *

Emma was roused from sleep with the sun beaming in her face, she turned and snuggled up to her pillow that smelled good—really good, like sandalwood and the ocean. She burrowed her face deeper, inhaling the scent, and took a moment before realizing that wasn't her pillow and this wasn't her bed.

She bolted upright before taking in her surroundings and what happened the night before. She scrambled for her phone, brushing her blonde mess of waves out of her face to check the time. It was still early, she had barely slept five hours, but there was a desperate instinct to fly far away from this bed with its tempting warmth and smells. _What is wrong with you? Smelling Killian's bed like that...Really, Emma?_

Speaking of, she searched for the perpetrator from her spot in the bed. She could see a black tuft of hair peeking up from the back of the couch that she immediately recognized as Killian's. _Good, he's still asleep._ Emma tiptoed around his studio, picking up her things as she went. She went to grab her project, and caught a glimpse of Killian sleeping on his couch.

He looked vulnerable, younger even, like this. Her heart swelled, a part of her wanting to drop her things and crawl right next to him and see how soft the white t-shirt he was wearing really was. She swallowed nervously, and grabbed a pen and post-it note, and wrote a hasty note and stuck it to his monitor.

She then crept to the door, and took one last look to the man that tried and probably very well succeeded in breaking down her walls, before turning and walking out the door.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! Oh, I hope you picked up all on the Tallahassee references. Leave me a comment to see if you caught them all! Also the stories about Gold's antics are true horror stories from my own college experience, my professors were great but crazy!


	4. Proximity

**Chapter 4: Proximity**

Related elements should be placed together.

For Emma, the early morning sun was always a strange sight to see. It's even more disconcerting as she makes the silent trek to the front door of her apartment, the warm rays beaming down on her like a spotlight.

Emma slowly opened the door to her apartment, careful not to alert her roommate, knowing how lightly she slept. As Emma started to take off her jacket, she felt an unfamiliar fabric under it, and realized she had picked up Killian's scarf on her way out. She hung the scarf on the coat stand, softly fingering it, lost in thought.

"Ahem."

"Holy sh-…Elsa!" Emma jumped, nearly knocking over the coat stand over. Her blonde roommate stood expectantly in the hallway with her arms crossed, already dressed for class that day, her long hair plaited neatly over her shoulder.

"I… wasn't expecting you to be up this early," Emma recovered, taking her beanie off, and casually strolled into their kitchen to the fridge, where she pulled a jug of orange juice out and set it down on their breakfast bar. Elsa followed her in and leaned over and placed her elbows on the bar. Her back was turned to grab a glass from a cupboard, but Emma could still feel those ice-blue eyes silently judging her. She sighed as she turned back to pour some juice in her glass, but before she could grab the jug, Elsa snatched it from her and held it hostage.

"Elsa," Emma groaned, setting the glass down and defiantly met her roommate's glare. Elsa kept her icy silence, and grabbed the glass Emma had pulled down, and poured juice in it. Emma gave a hopeful smile which quickly faded as she watched Elsa proceed to take a nice long drink from it.

"That's just cold," Emma whined, as she then pulled another glass down, and poured her own drink. Elsa just shrugged, clearly not bothered by her actions.

Emma didn't know why she put up with Elsa's passive aggressiveness. Perhaps it was because she was aggressive herself, more of a shoot now and ask questions later kind of girl. Elsa was cool-headed and patient, where Emma was not. She had a mean perfectionist streak, and was annoyed to no end with Emma's constant messes that came with being a painter. However, this trait allowed her to excel in her studies in architecture.

Emma and Elsa had actually met in a painting class in their first semester studying at Storybrooke University. It was a required class for both of them; however, Elsa was having trouble getting used to the fact she needed to get a little bit messy. She grew up with very strict parents, and though she wanted to pursue the arts, she compromised by being in a major that was "respectable" (read: employable). (Which, if those top 10 lists of Worst Majors to be in right now are to be believed, Architecture may not have been the best choice.)

Emma sat next to her, and while she thought she knew she painted well, it didn't have the technical refinement that Elsa seemed to achieve—even though Elsa's was always marked down for her works not having enough interest or passion. And although Professor Merlin was one of the more forgiving instructors at their University, he still knew the potential they both had and encouraged them to work together.

That very same year, Elsa's parents had died, and she suddenly had come into a very large trust fund as well as guardianship of her younger sister, who had just entered her senior year of high school. Emma, knowing a thing or two about loss, comforted her and helped her through it. They had been best friends ever since.

"So, where were you last night?" Elsa said, shortly and straight to the point, primly wiping her mouth with a napkin. Emma finished off her orange juice and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I told you I was going to be late, Mom." Emma rolled her eyes, before going to grab some PopTarts, suddenly ravenous.

"I already have Anna to worry about; I don't need to be keeping tabs on you as well," Elsa chided. "Besides, you said to 'not wait up for you'—which is pretty cryptic in itself. I can't help it if I'm curious."

Emma shrugged, setting up her PopTarts in the toaster. "I was just at Killian's, finishing up Gold's project."

Elsa lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Oh, really."

"Yes really… Wait, do you even know who I'm talking about?"

"He does have a reputation." _Jesus, the art department was way too small._

"Well, he's just… a friend." Emma said defeatedly. Elsa smirked, knowingly.

Emma shook her head. "No, he just helped me with my project for Gold, and it was late, so I slept there for the night… As a friend. Nothing weird." The PopTarts popped out of the toaster at that moment, which allowed Emma to hide her blush as she went to retrieve them.

Elsa continued to stare at Emma skeptically, then shook her head. "Well, where is this 'project' you finished so late last night?" Elsa teased, as she picked up her plastic carrying tube that held her blueprints and projects and slung it over her shoulder.

Emma sighed with relief that she was no longer being interrogated about Killian, and went over and picked up her project where she left it, and lifted the vellum cover to reveal the artwork underneath.

"Oh, Emma…" Elsa breathed, lifting her hand, wanting to touch it but restrained herself. "This is beautiful."

"Really?" Emma smiled softly, and joked, "I guess, as long as Gold doesn't tear it up, I'm fine."

Elsa laughed. "I think it's something really special. You'll do great today." She gave Emma a rare, warm smile.

"Well, I'm off to the Drafting Lab to get these plans done, but don't think for a second that you're off the hook just yet about Killian Jones." Elsa continued to giggle mercilessly as she left Emma alone in their apartment.

Emma frowned as she ate her PopTart. If Killian Jones was just a friend, then why did the thought of him being "just a friend" make Emma so uneasy? It wasn't as though there were hints of anything more—were there? As if her nerves weren't frayed as it were, the idea of seeing Killian again filled her both with longing and dread. Perhaps it wasn't a great idea to take up his offer of help. Gold's class was hard enough as it was without him distracting her with his piercing looks.

 _Get a grip, Emma._ She told herself as she wiped off the counter and rinsed off the glasses. _You were able to make it through a whole semester with him in your class; that's not going to stop you now._

The more she reflected on the last 24 hours, Emma was determined to not allow herself to delve deeper whatever feelings were bubbling up to the surface. Besides, she had finals to worry about and that was more important than deciding whether or not to pursue anything more than a friendship with a gorgeous, blue-eyed graphic designer.

* * *

Emma picked at an errant paint drop on her black pencil skirt nervously as she waited outside of Gold's class on Crit Day. No matter how hard she tried, paint seemed to get everywhere on her, and to be fair, this was the only piece of clothing that didn't have an obscene amount of paint on it.

It wasn't a requirement to dress up for Crit Days, though Gold had always seemed to scoff at her paint-splattered wardrobe before. At least she made the effort to look somewhat professional today, with her hair falling in waves, glasses on, and a smart black blazer to tie off the look.

Frustrated, she gave up on the splotch and looked up in time to see a familiar form making a determined saunter up to her. Emma looked around nervously, but the hallway she was in was devoid of any other life form, and the only exit was in the direction of the one person she was desperately trying to avoid.

Not that she would admit that she was actively avoiding him. And so what if Emma took the back way around, that took her nowhere near the computer lab or the art building courtyard, or any place Killian Jones might be? He was never early to Gold's class, always swaggering in right at the last minute in a small act of defiance against the formidable professor.

But seeing him again in the light of day forced Emma to reflect once again on the thoughts she tried to repress in the morning. She was determined that because although he was a friend, they weren't necessarily friendly—she trusted him, sure, but that didn't stop the warning bells going off in her head when he got too close. She probably revealed more than she should've last night. Perhaps that's the reason why she left without saying goodbye in the first place. It was just easier that way. Rather than see the look of realization in his eyes as the morning light shone through the cracks in her broken facade—a lost girl whom no one could ever love.

That's the problem with her walls. Though they kept her safe, and they made her feel strong, that so-called strength was just a weak excuse to keep people out and to keep her from getting hurt. The worst part about this was that she was highly aware of them.

And the problem with Killian was that he was highly aware of them as well. And just one night with him, shared in the most unromantic way, shook her foundation and threatened to topple her walls all down. If that's all one night had done to them, what destruction would happen if she allowed their relationship to progress as far as her heart wanted it to?

Despite wanting to be something more, she did not want to risk not having him in her life. Because one thing that Emma was absolutely sure of after last night was that she wanted more of him in her life. If that was at a capacity of familiar head nods as they passed each other in the hallway, then so be it.

These were the very thoughts Emma had gone over and over all morning since she had left his apartment. But these very thoughts also disappeared as she saw him approach her, steadfast and assured. In sudden clarity, Emma knew friendly head nods would never suffice. The safe walls she had built were suffocating and lonely, but when she looked at Killian at the end of the hall, she felt open and free.

As he got closer to her, his sure steps faltered a bit, as though he wasn't quite sure how to approach her. She was blatantly staring at him now, expectedly. Perhaps he wasn't expecting her to be. A small zing of pride rushed through her, having thrown him off his game.

Killian gave a soft smile, and scratched the spot behind his ear in a nervous tick, while he kept his left hand curled up in a fist by his side.

"You ...left something."

He held her note in his hand. The one she left haphazardly stuck to his monitor before she made her hasty exit from his apartment. It was worn, as though it'd been folded and unfolded several times. "I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you" written as though who ever wrote it already had one foot out the door.

Emma blinked, now the one to be caught off-guard. It felt as though she had written that note years ago, rather than just hours. "I'm—"

"No need to apologize, Swan." Killian shook his head.

"No, I… I'm sorry, Killian. You were great last night… I mean," Emma blushed, but Killian just smiled and nodded, encouraging her with a lifted eyebrow to go on.

Emma smiled in return. "I just want to say, thank you for sacrificing your beauty sleep in helping me with my project last night.

"What can I say, Swan. I've survived through worse all-nighters and still retained my youthful glow." Killian was smiling full-on now. "The company was enjoyable this time around, at least."

They both laughed, more out of relief than anything. _Perhaps, we'll be okay._

"So, are you nervous?" Killian said as he settled next to her against the wall, both of them facing opposite of Gold's classroom door.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what to expect, really." Emma fidgeted with the edges of her project, "It's not necessarily the most traditional way to go about this project."

"Here's a hint with this class, Emma." Killian bent his head towards her, "It isn't about your skill with the program or how you got there. It's how you present it."

"What do you mean?" Emma kept her eyes trained on the door, focusing on what she was going to say during her presentation.

"I mean, as long as you're confident and your concept is there, then everything else just falls into place. It's an introductory class; hardly anyone is a professional designer at this level."

 _He did have a point._ "But Gold—"

"Forget about him, Swan. He's a bloody git. Gold can…"

"Gold can what exactly, Mr. Jones." Emma and Killian jumped apart at the smooth voice interrupting their discussion. Killian coughed, as if to clear his voice, as Gold simply raised an eyebrow, opened the door to the classroom, and stepped inside.

Emma looked down at her hands that were nervously clutching her matboard. "Oh, god, I don't even know if what I'm going to present is strong enough."

"It is." She heard the smile on his lips.

Emma looked up to meet his blue eyes, calm like the ocean before a storm. "You think so?"

He nodded. "I've yet to see you fail, love." There was a beat before Killian pulled away from the wall and straightened up. "Now love, I think some gratitude is in order," He teased, tapping a finger against his lips.

Emma's mouth fell open slightly before reforming into a determined line, her eyes shone mischievously.

"You couldn't handle it." Emma smirked, subconsciously leaning forward, her gaze automatically locked on his lips.

Killian inclined his face closer to hers, and with a lowered voice said, "Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it."

Emma wasn't sure what compelled her to do what she did next. Perhaps it was the nerves of having to present her project, or the overwhelming tension that was pulling them together, or maybe because there was some residual adrenaline from the lack of sleep.

With one hand, she grabbed the front of Killian's soft blue shirt and pulled him to her as his lips met hers. What was meant to be something short and passive soon turned heated and passionate. His hands found it's way around her waist and through her hair. His lips were surprisingly soft, but pleasantly insistent and demanding, stealing every breath from her lungs. Once they broke off for air, they held each other close for a few seconds before Emma reluctantly pushed him an arm's length away.

"Don't… follow me right away… wait five minutes or something." Emma breath came out in short pants, hoping she didn't look as wrecked as Killian did at the moment, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.

Emma reached up to give him another small kiss on the cheek, then quickly slipped inside the classroom, leaving Killian with an awestruck smile.

* * *

As Emma settled into her seat, she cracked a small smile as she thought about what she had done. As she brushed her fingers against her lips, she could still feel the roughness of Killian's scruff against them. A pleasant heat filled her cheeks as she thought about her impulsiveness. She couldn't find any reason why she had decided to kiss him other than she selfishly wanted to and she felt good.

The rest of her class started to filter in quickly after she settled in her seat. The classroom was actually set up as a computer lab. Four rows of seats with monitors, and at the end a whiteboard which was where Professor Gold normally lectured. The right side wall was blank and littered with thumbtacks where students could hang their projects as they presented them. Killian, as usual, came in at the very last minute, not looking like he just was snogged within an inch of his life moments before. He just caught her eye, winked, and settled in his spot near the front. Emma smiled to herself again, hoping no one else caught the exchange.

Gold liked to allow his students to present on a volunteer basis. Emma disliked going first, but she also did not enjoy the torment of going last. Still on a high from perhaps the lack of sleep, but as well as her kiss with Killian, Emma volunteered to go first before her professor even asked, surprising Gold.

As Emma made her way to the front, her nerves were there but they weren't as bad. There was a sort of freedom in presenting first. There were no expectations from the class this way, since there was no standard of how the presentations were going. She hung her project up on the board, and turned to face her audience. Before she began she looked out to her peers, suddenly jarred and hyper-aware of their stares and Gold's judgmental sneer. However, her eyes searched and as she met one pair of blue eyes that was accompanied with an encouraging nod, she felt the confidence to continue on.

"I didn't have the best childhood," Emma started. "But, there was always one constant in my life—my childhood blanket…"

Her project was a digital painting of a swan, but its tail of feathers morphed into a river of white, knitted blanket with her name embroidered on the corner. The river was meant to symbolize the instability of her childhood—the winding course she had to take upstream to get to where she was now. She chose to use a swan, despite it being the surname of a family that also left her, but because of its close proximity to water. She had always felt adrift, taking whatever waves of pain and hurt came her way but always making it through.

However, while the subject matter was melancholy, but it was cut with another emotion that wasn't initially part of her plan when she first started working on the project. It was… hopeful. The overall color scheme was light, bright, and warm. The execution was fantastical and soft. There was a type of ethereal glow to it, that only could've been achieved by digitally painting the scene. It was the mix of both digital and traditional that blended together in a beautiful harmony. Color had flooded back into Emma's life, and she finally realized why.

"Despite what I've been through, I'm proud of where I've come as a person." Emma looked up from her work, out to the crowded room, and in a clear and certain voice said, "I'm not nothing, and I was never nothing. I have a future, and it'll be how I make it."

She ended her explanation to a stunned silence, then an overwhelming applause. She even spotted Aurora wiping a tear away, clearly moved by her project. Emma smiled a confused smile, taking her project down and returning to her seat, but not before catching Killian smiling proudly at her.

* * *

It had been a week since she had presented her project and it was the day that Emma received the results. The benefit of having their final on an actual class day meant that during finals week, all you had to do was show up and pick up your project and get your final grade for the semester.

As soon as her class was released, Emma hurriedly rushed to the courtyard, searching for a familiar mop of untidy black hair. Freshly fallen snow blanketed the area, but the sun was shining as bright as ever. She spotted Killian sitting at one of the benches, engrossed in sketching something in his book.

Since her presentation, they slowly began hanging out more every day. Sometimes joining each other on breaks for company, or meeting each other at their respective workplaces, bringing the other food.

Emma Swan was happy. It even reflected in her paintings, which she picked back up with a renewed purpose. Her newfound contentment breathing new life into her work. She even enrolled into Professor Merlin's Digital Painting class in the Spring to further develop her skills with the medium.

It amazed her how easy it was to allow Killian into her life once she knew that was what she wanted, and he fit into it perfectly. However, it was as if what had happened that day outside of Gold's class, never happened. While they never while they never discussed their kiss outright, it was an unspoken point between them that they both wished for it to happen again. They just didn't know how to approach the other on the subject.

Emma, tired of waiting, decided to take on the situation headfirst (with a little prodding from Elsa).

"I'm here to ask you out… or something," Emma said in a rush, standing over him, fidgeting with her project behind her back.

The tip of the pencil Killian was holding snapped. He paused, staring at it for a second before looking up to meet the Emma's emerald stare. The blonde bit her lip, afraid she had misinterpreted something and the the overwhelming need to run started to pool somewhere near her sternum.

But a grin slowly formed on his lips. "As long as I get to plan the date." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he quirked his eyebrow with a smile that she couldn't help to return.

"I know how to plan a date, Jones." She scoffed as if offended, and shook her head.

"No, Swan. You know how to masterfully pull off a last-minute project; I know how to plan a date." He shook his head, chuckling.

Emma tilted her head with a smile. "Well, I don't dip into the paint on a first date, y'know."

"That's because you haven't been on one with me yet," Killian smirked as he leaned forward. "And we already know how great I am at mounting," he added with a wink. Emma flushed, but was pleasantly happy with herself that she didn't giggle out loud.

He returned back to reach into his bag for a pencil sharpener. "I'll pick you up at 8."

Emma nodded, adjusting Killian's gray scarf that she kept since he had placed it around her neck, before starting to walk away. To think when she first received the scarf, they were practically strangers, turned into unlikely partners, and now barreling towards something more.

What had started as a hard-fought war on technology, turned into a journey into uncovering truths about herself that she thought she wasn't prepared to face. Emma Swan's life before that fateful day in the computer lab was gray and unsure. Killian Jones had helped her see hues that she thought she had lost, as well as introducing new ones like the blush of his cheeks from laughing at a joke she made, or the vast sea blue of his eyes that she wanted to drown in.

"Oh, and Swan," Killian looked back up from his sketchbook, as Emma turned back to look at him. "Congrats on the A." Emma smiled widely with pride and nodded as she turned away, looking forward to their date as well as a bright and colorful future with Killian Jones.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you all for reading this little fic of mine, your love and feedback has been amazing and I appreciate you all. Special thanks to Kaitlyn (SpartanGuard) for the encouragement and being my beta. Find me on tumblr: shipsxahoy


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